


Get Crazy

by CavalryCarousel



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Implied Relationships, Jealous Steve Rogers, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalryCarousel/pseuds/CavalryCarousel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is not spending much time with Steve and Steve is very upset about it. It doesn't make it better that Steve has a huge, secret crush on him.</p><p>Instead, Bucky is giving all his attention to Natasha . . . and, well, EVERYBODY loves Natasha. How could you not? </p><p>[Also including a Natasha who definitely knows EVERYTHING and is totally going to play along just to throw the two of them into turmoil.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> There's no hetero here. Do not be intimidated by Steve's panicking.
> 
> . . . Honestly, who do you think I am?

Having Bucky as an Avenger was an absolute _miracle_ that Steve never thought he would ever get to see. It was like a combination of both of his worlds, past and present and he was very thankful that he had been able to see such an event occur. Bucky mostly worked with Natasha and sometimes Clint, though, as an active member of S.H.I.E.L.D. While all of the Avengers strived toward the bringing down of Hydra, for Bucky it was more personal. He wasn’t about to forget seventy years of torture and brainwash.

For now, though, he wasn’t as much as a field agent as both of his friends. He worked as a sniper, and as much as he wanted to get in the fight instead of scoping it from a nest, he knew it was for the best and was willing to accept it. After all, sniping was what he had done back in World War II, and was what he was best at.

But, more than that, when the agents were at the Avengers Tower where the rest of the team idly resided (when they weren’t needed, of course), Bucky was quickly befriending Natasha—which was quite impressive, considering it was _Natasha._ They would often speak to each other in Russian just for fun, while actually asking for the other to pass the salt or fetch toilet paper, or something of the sort. They sat next to each other during meetings, talked strategies more often than not, and Natasha even took Bucky out to dinner or a movie, or other civilian things just to help him get reacquainted with himself.

Steve was _not_ jealous.

But he did spend very little time with Bucky now, and wasn’t Bucky supposed to be _his_ best friend?

It was dampening his mood and the rest of the team was noticing it, though choosing not to talk about it, because none of them wanted to ask _why_ Steve was suddenly behaving like the grumpy ninety-year-old that he was. Other than Sam, of course; Sam was very vigilant about making sure he felt alright as if Steve was literally his handicapped grandfather. Steve had told him off multiple times, and gone to enough lengths to actually _insult_ Sam to get him to stop pestering. Sam had been offended, but otherwise got the message.

“Avengers,”

The team was sitting in the meeting room, waiting for Fury to make his dramatic appearance, but nothing happened until the comm system ignited with the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director’s face.

“We’re here.” Steve replied solemnly, looking up at the holographic-like screen in front of him like it was an intrusion, his arms crossed over his chest. The rest of the group remained silent.

“All of you?” Fury asked, meant merely as a double-check – he couldn’t see all of them, just Steve, but the team was very good at assembling for their debriefings. They had never had an issue with it, unless someone was already gone for a personal reason or a different S.H.I.E.L.D. mission.

“That was _implied_.” Steve replied annoyedly.

“. . . Well, good.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be meeting us _here_?”

“I was, but I got caught up with a bunch of paperwork concerning the issue I’m about to discuss with you. Being the Director of an international-wide agency that recently was reorganized is _difficult_ , you know.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He really did _not_ care about Fury’s problems at the moment. “What’s the ‘issue’?”

“Hydra is I’m afraid. Ain’t it _always_ Hydra? I mean, it’s a damn good thing we got approved _and_ supported by the American government, or those bitches would be running the show!”

“They are persistent, but if not Hydra, then aliens or robots.”

“Or alien robots. That’ll be a new one.” Tony commented, speaking up for the first time. He earned a stern nod from Steve, but that was it.

“One day, Stark, one day – until then, Hydra it is. They’ve got this—from what our intel says— _enormous_ experimentation site out in Russia. Still active, of course, and probably filled to the brim with enhanced test subjects. We don’t know for sure, but see if you can recruit any of them. Wanda?”

“Yes?”

“I want you to be in charge of talking to any of the enhanced that you run into. They’ll know you from Rucker’s success so they might relate to you. I’m sure you know what to say.”

“I will do it.”

“Thank you.” Fury said, nodding. “You set out in three days, so pack your undies. Got it?”

“What time on Friday?”

“Early morning, I’d say between five-thirty and six in the morning.”

“Will do,” Steve agreed, and Fury hung up. Steve looked to the team, who were splayed out down the long table in front of him. He leaned over slightly, placing his palms on the tabletop. The groans weren’t audible, but he could feel them. Steve usually liked to burden them with his famous “pre-mission speeches”, but today he was _not_ feeling it. “Listen. I’m going to keep this brief, so you better pay attention. Fighting that many enhanced is going to be hard, so you better be prepared when we get there. Bring all your armor, if you can.” Steve said, looking between each of them. “James, I want you in the nest but keep a vehicle with you. There might be a situation that requires your assistance,” Steve added without looking at his friend.

Bucky’s eyes widened, eyebrows raising in unison. It was the first time Steve had _ever_ called him James, other than when they first met, and he hadn’t corrected him yet. But he didn’t say anything. Nobody said anything, because everyone was thinking the same thing.

“I’m going to send in Thor as a distraction. He’s going to draw out the enhanced to our waiting position. I’ll let you know where that is once we get there. I don’t know what we’re up against, I don’t know how big this . . . _facility_ is, which means we’re going to have to play it by ear. There are more of us now than there was before, so I’m not that concerned. _If_ you get hurt and can no longer fight, don’t push yourself. We can cope. Are we clear? Does anybody have any questions?”

“Do you want me to bring the rifle as well as my um . . . regular weapons?” Bucky asked quietly.

“That would be wise.” Steve responded. Bucky felt like a child for asking. “Is that all?”

Silence.

“Good. You’re dismissed. Remember, three days from now. We’re leaving between five-thirty and six _in the morning_ , Clint, I’m looking at you.” Steve said, waving his hand as the team stood up, grabbing anything they’d placed on the table and preparing to walk out.

“I’ll get up when I wanna get up, dammit.” Clint murmured defensively as they filed out of the meeting room, leaving Steve and Bucky behind.

Silence. Again. But eventually, Bucky spoke. He had to. He’d been meaning to speak to Steve for a week now, and it was the perfect chance right after the meeting. Natasha had agreed. But he certainly wasn’t expecting that _performance_ , so he surprised himself with his first words.

“Why’d you call me James?”

“That’s your name, ain’t it?”

“No it’s not. You know I don’t like being called James.” Bucky said, looking up at Steve. Steve straightened up and crossed his arms, refusing to speak.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting different recently. Just today it felt more like we were the Board of Education instead of the Avengers.” Bucky said after a few whole minutes of nothing but silence between them.

“It’s important to be mature.”

“But not _mean_. You practically broke Sam’s heart the other day. That’s _not_ like you, Stevie.”

Steve looked away, staring at the door that the team had departed from.

“Are you . . . okay? Is something wrong? You know you can tell me, pal. I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” Bucky said, trying to laugh to make the situation more light-hearted. Steve would have none of it.

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you my best friend?”

“Well . . . yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Bucky asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

Steve was about to make some snarky comment about how Bucky and Natasha seemed to be pretty close to best friends, but he bit it back, fully aware of _just how much of a teenager_ he sounded right now. Instead, he made no response.

“Steve.”

“ _What_?”

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, there isn’t and you’re sounding like Sam. I’ve been through all these questions. Everything is perfectly fine.” Steve said, walking out of the room swiftly before Bucky could continue the conversation. He was running out of responses and didn’t want to be pinned down. Bucky was real good at that – cornering people and making them talk even if they didn’t want to. He’d done it to Steve many, _many_ times back in the forties. Steve had been more than a little self-conscious at the time, and he knew Bucky wouldn’t approve, so he’d kept it to himself. That had never worked because of Bucky’s interrogation tactics.

He was not about having that happen again right now.

 

 

* * *

 

  

“Well, what did he say?”

“I don’t . . . I don’t even know.” Bucky sighed. He felt stupid for coming to Natasha, but he was feeling really . . . confused after talking to Steve. Not necessarily mad but more . . . hurt. Hurt is what he would call it. For the entirety of his and Steve’s life in the forties, and then into the present day – when Bucky was still a mindless weapon of Hydra, Steve had never _once_ questioned their friendship. It had been what had fueled Steve to defend Bucky from Tony and the governments of the world during the big split of the Avengers a few years ago.

It was just . . . painful. Pain seemed to be the only constant thing in his life.

“I know Steve pretty well, Bucky. I’m good at reading people, but I can’t understand what is provoking him. I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.”

“I asked him what was wrong. I said that he can tell me anything, cause, y’know; I’m his friend ‘n all. He just said ‘are you?’ and that was about it, really. He was kinda unresponsive.”

“He can get like that.”

“Yeah I know.”

Natasha stayed silent for a few minutes, thinking. Bucky let her. She’d figure it out – always did. Eventually, she smiled and looked down. They were standing out on the balcony, and from their angle, they had a perfect view of the busy street below. “I think I know why.” She said, finally.

“Why?”

She met his gaze and rolled her shoulders back before leaning on the railing, laughing slightly.

“ _Why_?” Bucky pressed, watching her expression change and letting a smile of his own pass over his lips. “What do you know, Nat?”

“I can’t tell you. There’s a chance I might be wrong, so I can’t tell you.” Natasha said, though her laughter was starting to grow and Bucky was getting frustrated.

“You’re never wrong!”

“I know, that was an excuse to not tell you – which I’m not.”

“ _Nat_!”

“Buck!”

“Christ, Natasha. You suck.”

“You swallow. Let’s get you a haircut before the mission.”

“Ugh. _Fine._ "

 

 

* * *

 

  

If Steve ever were to consider himself screwed, it would be at this moment.

Bucky had spent the remainder of the day with Natasha doing . . . well, God knows what. But it was obvious he’d gotten a haircut (just as she’d promised). It was actually shorter than it had been in the forties—at least, in the back it was. They had left it longer in the front, but it curled in on itself in the place Bucky’s bangs used to be, and he wore it somewhat brushed back—out of his eyes; and Hell if he wasn’t absolutely _stunning_. Steve had trouble swallowing.

“Are we gonna have a family dinner or what?” Tony asked as the group collectively began shuffling into the kitchenette for food. It was a common occurrence for the team to just pick away at leftovers or Hot Pockets without actually eating together, but Tony and Steve were big on what Tony called ‘family night’, which was essentially, the group picked out a main dish and dessert for Tony to order and then ate together in the lounge, usually while watching a TV show or playing a game.

“Yeah, we haven’t done that in a while!” Clint said, effectively halting the straggled Avengers members in their tracks.

“Steve?” Tony asked, looking over the back of the couch at the blond.

“I’m . . . going to go out on a limb here and say tacos?” Steve replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘Tacos’ was practically a trigger word. Literally everybody around the Tower loved tacos. The resounding yes’s and woop’s was evidence enough.

“I’m on it. Vision, be a doll and hand me my thingie thing. You’re the closest to the table thing.”

“You mean your cell phone and the countertop?”

“Yeah, those things.”

Vision chuckled slightly and handed over the phone, and Tony busied himself with dialing the taco number.

“What are we gonna do for dessert?” Clint asked, plopping onto the sofa next to Tony.

“I’m thinking something with alcohol.” Natasha stated, perching on the arm of one of the lounge chairs that Bucky had collapsed in.

“No alcohol. We have a mission in two days.” Steve said firmly.

“Two days is more than enough time to recover from a hangover.” Clint said, pointing at Steve. “Just because _you_ can’t get drunk doesn’t mean _we_ can’t.”

“It’s three days.” Natasha chirped. “It’s Monday. We leave Friday morning.”

“Three! Three days! Even better! More time to get over a hangover!” Clint said, waving his hand at Natasha like her words gave him a solid reason to get drunk. Steve sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Clint to say something else.

“I have not gotten drunk in a long time. I would like to for once in a while.” Wanda said, raising her eyebrow as she passed Steve and sat down on the sofa opposite of Tony and Clint.

“Is there anybody here who _doesn’t_ feel like getting drunk?” Steve asked, albeit, a bit helplessly. Vision raised his hand apprehensively. He was the _only one_ to raise his hand.

Steve sighed again and dropped his head. “Fine, fine, _but_ ,” he said, raising his forefinger up and meeting the gaze of everyone who was looking at him—so, everyone (including Tony who was still on the phone). “If you are not _entirely_ sober by Friday morning, you’re in time-out for month.”

“That’s . . . straight up _cruel_.” Clint said, pointing at Steve. Steve pointed back.

“That’s great, anyways.” Steve looked away, directing his pointing at the rest of them. “Hear me?”

“Looks like you’re our designated driver, Vis.” Wanda chuckled, looking across seating area to where Vision was seated next to Tony on the arm of the couch.

“Where are we driving?” He asked, confused.

The team laughed.

“So . . . are we gonna decide on dessert?” Bucky asked, smiling.

“Of _course_ we are!” Clint exclaimed, running toward the keg and grabbing mugs on his way.

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no idea what my posting schedule is gonna be like. We're leaving for Disney World on the 27th, so we'll see.
> 
> This work is actually for a challenge my friend posted on a writing app, so thanks to her for giving me the idea. 
> 
> Title credit goes to SarahMuffin, also known as my extremely heterosexual girlfriend.


End file.
